


sketches and paintings

by hawksonfire



Series: oh, the good ol' days [18]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Marvel Bingo 2019, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: Steve drew some interesting things, back in the day.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: oh, the good ol' days [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533320
Comments: 32
Kudos: 182
Collections: Marvel Bingo 2019





	sketches and paintings

**Author's Note:**

> Marvel Bingo 2019 Square I4 - Humiliation.

**Clint**

“C’mon, you know you’re gonna tell me,” Clint says, poking at Bucky’s ribs. Bucky yelps, smacking his hands away and glaring at him.

“He won’t if he wants to get laid in the next century,” Steve grumbles, glaring at Bucky pointedly.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Clint says, dismissing Steve’s scowl with a wave. “C’mon, Buck, please?” He puts on his best puppy eyes and pouty face and stares at Bucky pleadingly.

“Cheater,” Bucky mutters, crossing his arms. “C’mon, Stevie, can’t I just share a couple?”

Steve throws his hands in the air. “Fine. Go ahead and share all the embarrassing shit from our childhood.”

“Yes!” Clint pumps his fist in the air and slides onto the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of Bucky with his chin in his hands. “Well?”

Bucky snorts. “I’ve got the perfect one,” he grins. 

“Oh no,” Steve sighs. 

“It was 1937,” Bucky says, “And Stevie had just gotten a bunch of commissions from some ladies who wanted portraits of their sons to hang on their walls. So he does the portraits, draws the sons all nice and fancy, in between drawing some portraits of me when he needs a refresher.”

“I think I know where this is going,” Clint snorts. Steve’s gone bright red and buried his face in his hands.

“The portraits of me, though,” Bucky continues, smirking, “They weren’t just any old portraits. No, they were portraits of me in the _ nude_. Or of me in the middle of... well, certain acts that were rather private, and explicit, if you catch my meaning.” He wiggles his eyebrows and Clint starts to laugh. “Thing is though, Stevie here kept the portraits of me and the portraits of those nice ladies sons in the _ same _ sketchbook.”

“We couldn’t exactly afford more than one, Buck,” Steve interrupts.

“Who’s tellin’ the story, punk?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow. Steve waves a hand for him to go on, rolling his eyes. “So Stevie goes to show those nice ladies the sketches he’s done, to get their approval so he can start painting them, right?”

“As one does,” Clint nods.

“Right, so he shows up at one lady’s house, and she’s invited all her friends to come and see the lovely portrait of her son that this fine young man has drawn out for her. Steve pulls out his entire sketchbook, and hands the _ whole thing _ over to her.” 

“He didn’t,” Clint says, eyes wide.

“Oh, but he did,” Bucky continues, nodding. “So he gives her the whole sketchbook and only realizes as she’s opening it up, right? But he can’t just take it back from her because that’s even _ more _ suspicious. So instead, he starts blathering on about how he’s an art student, and how his project last week was to capture some scenes of a carnal nature. He’s going on and on about this project, to the horror of these fine women - who, of course, are getting an eyeful of me.”

“I think he gets it, Buck,” Steve interrupts, “You can stop now.”

“Shush, you,” Clint says, climbing on top of Steve’s lap and slapping a hand over his mouth, “I wanna hear how this ends.”

“Yeah, Steve,” Bucky grins. “Shush.” Steve rolls his eyes and gestures for Bucky to continue. “So, there Steve is, practically showing me off to a bunch of ladies who were not expecting to see me in all my glory when they opened his sketchbook, and finally, they just give him back his sketchbook, tell him the portraits of their sons are lovely, and they’d love to have him paint them.” Bucky stops talking and sits back on the couch.

“That’s it?” Clint asks, looking between the two men. “That’s all that happened?”

Pushing Clint’s hand off his mouth, Steve says, “No, but he wants me to tell this next part.”

“Then tell it!” Clint exclaims. “I’m _ invested _ now!”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I get my sketchbook back from these women and tell them that I’ll be finished their paintings in a few weeks, and I’ll be back to bring them over once I’m done. As I’m leaving, I hear someone calling my name from down the street.”

“Oh no,” Clint says.

“Oh yes,” Bucky says gleefully.

“So I turn my head,” Steve continues, “And it’s none other than Bucky himself, running up the street to catch me after working at the docks all day. The front door of the house I just left, you know, the one full of all the women who’ve just seen Buck’s dick flopping about in graphite, hasn’t yet been closed.”

“Oh _ no_,” Clint says again.

“So he reaches me and tosses an arm around my shoulder, casual as can be,” Steve crosses his arms, “And all the ladies inside the house are staring, because his face was in some of those drawings. They look between us, and I could _ see _ the moment that the realization dawned on their faces.”

“Of course,” Bucky interrupts, “Punk here didn’t tell me until we got home that they’d seen his sketches, and -”

“Not like you were even embarrassed when I did tell you,” Steve says, cutting him off. 

“Why would I be embarrassed?” Bucky shrugs, “I was proud to be shown off.”

“_Anyway_,” Steve says pointedly, glaring at Bucky, “Fast forward to a few weeks later, when I’m bringing the paintings to the house so I can get paid, and this idiot decides that he’s gonna accompany me. To help me carry the paintings, he said.” Steve’s expression shows what he thinks of that. (Not much.)

“You were a scrawny sack of asthma back then, no way was I letting you carry all those paintings all the way to that house,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“Not the point! Get back to the story!” Clint says impatiently.

“So Bucky helped me bring all the paintings over, against my wishes,” Steve continues, “And as soon as he walks in the door being his charming self -”

“Steve, of course, was bright red,” Bucky cuts in. 

“- one of the ladies pulls me aside and asks where I take art classes,” Steve says. “Because, as she put it, ‘if someone that handsome is the model, I find myself with a sudden interest in art’.”

“We had to scramble to arrange an art class where I was the model,” Bucky says, snickering. “And it did end up being a class where I had to be nude, so Steve didn’t stop blushing the whole time.”

“That was so humiliating,” Steve sighs, burying his face in his hands again. 

“But hey! That’s how you got those commissions from that underground Tijuana Bible place,” Bucky says, “Kept food in our bellies for another two months!”

“I guess,” Steve admits grudgingly. “Still embarrassing, though.”

“Hey!” Bucky cries. “It wasn’t your dick they saw!” Clint bursts out laughing and falls off Steve’s lap, falling onto the floor and laughing so hard he cries. By the time he calms down, his stomach hurts from laughing so hard.

“You know,” Clint says, his voice hoarse, “You could probably make money off your drawings now too, if you wanted.”

“Even the dick ones?” Steve asks, screwing up his face.

Clint snorts. “_Especially _ the dick ones, Steve,” he says seriously.


End file.
